


Just Like a Song

by justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: The love of a lifetime, lost, then found again.





	1. When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrostbitePanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostbitePanda/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Frost!!! Love you, my angsty queen! <3 Part two coming soon.
> 
> HUGE THANKS to meisiesmut and sparkles59! This wouldn't be here without either of them. They were pivotal in whipping this fic into shape. Love you ladies to the moon and back!!!

She looks out over the large, buzzing crowd of suits and designer dresses, every one of the well heeled guests with their noses in the air, and groans. “Why in the hell did I let you drag me to this? It’s a proctologist’s dream in here. Wall-to-wall assholes.”

“Doug Coughlin from Cocktail,” Missandei says beside her, chirping like some happy little bird.  
“You’ve used that one a hundred times.”

“It fits lots of situations.”

“Yeah, well, don’t forget you’re one of these assholes now, and you owe me. It’s New Year’s Eve, Dany. You have no business being home alone in your old pj’s with messy hair,” Missy frets like an old hen.

“Don’t forget the cold pizza and wine.”

“Ha ha. There are three hundred people here and you know half of them. Surely you can find someone to talk to.” She grins, wiggling her waxed-to-perfection eyebrows. “Maybe even someone to go home with.”

Dany's eyes roll so far back in her head it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Not happening, Missy. There’s not a man here that could please me better than Mr. H anyway.” One certain man flashes into her mind. One who had definitely pleased her better than any damn vibrator ever could. She clears the lump out of her throat and hopes against hope that Missy doesn’t notice the blush heating her cheeks. 

“Don’t be such a party pooper prude. You’re gonna have to give Mr. Hitachi a break one of these days, you know?” She runs her hands over Dany’s braids, which she worried over for hours before they even left. “You look gorgeous, thanks to me, so there’s no way you won’t have at least a dozen of them on the hook before ten. You need a real man.”

Dany brushes her away and starts walking. “I look like a slut, thanks to you, and leave Mr. H outta this. He’s loyal and committed. And for the record, I never said I wouldn’t hook any of them. I said I wouldn’t be taking anyone home.”

Missy skips up beside her on her sky-high heels, her big brown eyes glowing. “Oooooh, you got a room here, didn’t you?”

“Nope. You know I don’t do strangers.”

She wilts like a flower. “But it’s been years. You have to move on one day, sweetie.”

“Please give it a rest. We’ve been over this a thousand times. I have moved on, you just don’t like where I moved to. Let it go. Please.”

From the look on Missy's face you’d think Dany just kicked her puppy, but those big watery doe eyes and pouty lips don’t do much to persuade Dany. She leans in and gives her best friend a peck on the cheek. “I love you, but I’m fine. I’ve been a big girl for a long time. Now go do your thing, I’m going to get a drink.” With that, Dany turns around and heads towards the bar across the room.

“Daenerys,” she whines after her.

Dany waves her off and keeps walking. Missy knows Dany has never been the life of the party. That’s her job. While she does work with a lot of these people, this is Missandei's and her daddy’s crowd, not Dany’s. She’ll have a few drinks, dance with a few suits, and then head home to her pj’s and cold pizza. It’s nine now. Eleven should be a long enough stay. 

Weaving her way through the crowd of snotties—damn rich people—she eventually makes it to the bar. Thankfully the line isn’t terribly long and she only has to wait a few minutes before ordering.

“What can I get you, gorgeous?” the bartender asks as soon as she steps up, a big smile on his scruffy face. She's surprised Kraznys didn’t make him shave.

“Amaretto sour, please,” Dany says politely, keeping her face neutral so she doesn’t encourage him or any of the other men around her. She's pretty sure a few of them followed her up here from the main floor. Missy did too good of a job on her tonight, the bitch. Even Dany has to admit, she looks damn good in this dress. Having a back that plunges down to her ass might be a bit much though. Most of the men at functions like these only see women as playthings brought in for their entertainment.

Apparently the ones around her are no exception. They’re like wolves circling in for the kill, causing her skin to prickle with their hungry stares. None of them will be making a meal out of her though. She's in ice-queen mode, just like every other day that ends in ‘y’. Scruffy places her drink on the bar and takes the tip she places beside it. She walks away without a word, ignoring the catcalls and whistles.

Maybe one day she’ll succeed in getting Missandei to quit trying to get her hitched and leave her to the single life. She’ll probably be fifty before that happens. She's never been able to figure out why Missy’s so determined anyway. Her bestie swears she’s never getting married despite her father’s looming deadline. Dany actually feels sorry for her being the rich kid. Missy only has a few more years before the money pipeline flowing into her accounts shuts down for good. If she doesn’t bow to daddy’s wishes she’ll be out on her spoiled ass. It makes Dany very thankful for her humble upbringing. The poor thing has no clue how to take care of herself.

She finds an empty table in a dark corner on the second floor balcony, and sits, slipping off her heels. Time to people watch. That’s her thing when she goes to parties. Watching people and making stories up for them to pass the time. Being a bit introverted, it’s her coping mechanism for crowds. She wasn’t always like this. She used to be fun. That was a long time ago though, way back in her early twenties. Before he left.

_Nope, we’re not going there Dany._

_People watching, we were people watching. Let’s find our first victim._

She spots Missy flitting from bigwig to bigwig on her first sweep. How her friend doesn’t see it, Dany doesn’t know, but she is her father’s daughter. She eats this shit up with a spoon and could party for nights on end if necessary. Dany doesn’t know how she stands it. She's so glad to be ‘the help’ and too lowly to rub elbows with the richies. Or worse, be stuck down there on some wealthy asshole’s arm with the fakest of smiles plastered on her face. 

She keeps scanning the crowd of black penguin suits and flashy dresses until she finds the ever-present pigeon among all the peacocks. 

_There she is! And look, her husband makes them a matching pair._

The poor things are just like her, they have no business being with these stuffed shirts in this ritzy club. They’re too poor and too old. His tux is two sizes too big and bless her, her dress is two sizes too small. Looks like a bunch of puppies fighting in a sack. And damn, you could tell it was a last minute panic buy at the outlet mall. 

She's an awful person. When did she become so mean?

_When he left._

_Not going there, remember?_

It’s nearly impossible not to. It never fails, no matter where she goes. She sees him everywhere. Sometimes she can even smell him or hear his voice. Her mind is a cruel, cruel bitch. Case in point, right down there. Dark and sexy. That one’s almost a carbon copy except his shoulders are a little wider than Jon’s were.

He’s got his hair pulled it back though, Jon never wore it that way. 

_Is that curls brushing his collar?_

She squints her eyes. _Maybe? No. He’s too tall._ And Jon never let his scruff go past a day or two. That one has a beard. _Still..._

Gods, she’s losing her mind. It can’t be him. He’s in London, has been since he left. He wouldn’t be here. _He’s not here._

But, whoever he is, he sure can command a room like Jon did. Everyone down there is watching him, how he moves, hanging on his every word. The women will probably start dropping like flies in a minute, maybe even some of the men. It's like senior formal all over again. Except maybe this guy, no one could wear a tux better than Jon. He looked like he was in a movie that night.

She used to dream of him standing at the end of an aisle, dressed in a crisp white shirt and a sharp black tux. He was always smiling, his beautiful brown eyes twinkling, his cheeks flushed with happiness as he watched her walk towards him in a white dress.

Her phone buzzes like mad in her clutch, heels clicking rapidly down the stairs. She has to see. Has to know. She’ll never spot him once she gets swallowed by the crowd, so she heads for the raised bar. 

“Ready for round two, gorgeous?” scruffy face asks.

“Yes, thank you.” She climbs onto a stool and spins it around to get a better view. 

_Where is he?_

She registers ice tinkling, splashes of liquid, then a heavy glass sliding over wood. “How is it a pretty lady like you is all alone?”

“I like it that way.” Not moving her eyes from the crowd she grabs her drink, taking a rather large swallow. She still can’t find the guy who set her heart into panic mode. Maybe he left?

Missandei suddenly materializes out of the crowd like Scotty just beamed her up. “Dany! There you are! I was here a few minutes ago and you weren’t here. How’d I miss you? Were you in the bathroom?”

“No, upstairs.” She swats at her and her annoying chatter, stretching up to see better. He has to be out there somewhere. Surely she wasn’t seeing things. She's not that drunk yet.

“Oh good, then come with me. I need some peace and quiet already,” Missy whines, tugging at her arm.

Peace and quiet? Missandei doesn’t even know what those words mean. Dany sinks back in her chair, eyes boring into her friend.

_Son of a bitch._

Heart in her throat, she pulls away from her. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Missandei's nervous smile evaporates, eyes swelling into liquid pools. “Oh God! You saw him? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d be here. I swear I didn’t. I’m gonna kill daddy for not telling me. We can leave, okay? I’ll sneak you out the back.” She has her other arm caught in her grasp now, trying to pull Dany off the stool.

She jerks away from her, spilling what’s left of her drink. “No.” 

“No? What do you mean, no? You want to go out the front instead?”

“I mean, _no_. I’m staying.”

“Dany, honey, I’m not sure seeing him after all this time is a good idea.” The pity written all over her face makes Dany want to slap her.

She sets her glass down on the bar hard enough the ice dances. “Not seeing him hasn’t worked so well for me, now has it?”

“No, I guess not, but…”

“Have you talked to him?” She shakes her head. “Then go find out why he’s here. Do some recon. I need to know if he’s just visiting or back for good.”

Missandei's eyes nearly fall out of her head. “You want _me_ to talk to him? Dany, the last time I saw him he wasn’t happy with me. I’ll go ask daddy instead.” She scurries away before Dany can stop her.

 _Shit, shit, shit_. She knew she should’ve stayed home. It’s a damn good thing she's only had a drink and a half tonight or she sure as shit would be puking right now. 

Unable to help herself she scans the crowd again and there he is. The man she thought she’d never see again. 

He’s as beautiful as he ever was, actually even more so. He’s still carrying himself like a perfect gentleman, yet relaxed and at ease. He always seemed to move with the grace of a cat, oozing power and pure male sexuality with every move he made. And tonight it’s practically radiating off of him. Just like every other person that's watching him, she's awestruck, unable to pull her eyes away from his gorgeous presence. 

His raven hair is still longer than most men’s. While he used to let his riotous curls flow free, he’s pulled them back, leaving his perfect profile on display. And his beard, trimmed neat and tight... It makes him even sexier, which she would've thought impossible. She nearly bursts into tears as she watches his soft full lips pull back into a slow smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners–his response to someone’s joke.

He used to smile at her like that all the time.

Six years. She hasn’t seen Jon Snow—the love of her life, the man she was going to marry—in six years.

It feels like he just left yesterday.

She knew when he did she would never love another. Hell, she knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him in tenth grade in Mr. Estes’ homeroom when they were both the tender age of sixteen.

Jon was the new kid coming in halfway through the semester. They didn’t get many of those, so he stood out among all of the other kids. They’d all been together since kindergarten.

He would have stood out regardless with his inky mess of curls reaching his chin, a stark contrast to the shorter cuts that were popular at the time. And with skin so pale, one would've thought he’d never seen the sun, yet somehow he didn't look sickly, just pure and perfect, like moonlight. He’d been wearing a plaid flannel over a white sleeveless tank, a pair of tight black skinny jeans, and Doc Marten's. There was a hair band around his wrist too. But it was his eyes that really caught her attention, and her heart.

They were the most beautiful eyes Dany had ever seen and she was lost the second they stared back at her, nervous, melancholic and lonely, full of pain.

She knew those feelings well. They were her constant companions five days a week, one hundred and eighty days a year. School wasn’t kind to awkward, shy girls who developed early. All the boys wanted to do was get her in their back seats, and their rotation of girlfriends hated her guts for it.

So when his sad eyes met hers, she smiled back softly. He ignored everyone else’s judgemental stares, grinned slightly, and then headed straight for the empty seat behind her.

“Hi, I’m Jon,” he whispered as he sat down.

Dany twisted around in her seat and gave him a crazy smile. She couldn’t help it, those three little words, smoothed and rounded off as they were sent a delightful shock through her. He was British, and up close like he was, he took her breath away. She had to grip the back of her seat till her knuckles went white to keep from reaching up and slipping her fingers into his curls. She just knew they would slide through her fingers like silk if she did.

Her cheeks were on fire when she found her voice. “Umm, hi. My name’s Daenerys. Nice to meet you.”

“Cool name, I like it.” The smile he gave her nearly knocked her from her seat. 

And just like that, on a Tuesday morning in March, the honeyed taste of love rushed over Dany and she was hopelessly lost.

Fourteen years later and the sight of him still causes that sweet shocking skirmish to wash through her very soul.

She had helped get him acquainted with where all his classes were and told him who was who for the rest of the day. At lunch she had learned he was from a Northern England, born and raised in a village called Winterfell. His father had been killed by a drunk driver just a few weeks before and his step mother had kicked him out the second she could come up with a reasonable excuse in the eyes of her social circle. She had always hated him and what he stood for, his father's infidelity. His only choice was living on the streets or begging his black sheep uncle over in the States for a place to stay. 

Benjen, thankfully, was willing to take in a moody, troubled teenager, and even though Jon barely knew him, he was a connection to his dad and much better than the alternative. He’d packed his meager belongings, said goodbye to his half brothers and sisters, then boarded a plane to Georgia. 

Dany’s heart broke for him, and after hearing his own sad story, she spilled hers, telling him of her father quickly losing most of his sanity the day she was born. The day her mother died. While she had a roof over her head, and food to eat, her father and brother never looked at her with anything other than disdain. They couldn’t help but connect, lost and thrown away as they both felt. They were best buds before the end of the week.

Turned out his Uncle Benjen wasn't really equipped to take care a kid. He was never home, his job having him gone for weeks at a time. There were never groceries in their house, so Jon ate like a ravenous wolf at school everyday, breakfast and lunch. When he had money to pay for it anyway. Benjen seemed to always forget he needed any. 

It only took about a week to figure out what was going on and unable to keep watching him struggle, Dany started bringing leftovers from home or extra lunch money from her meager allowance to give him. She made out like she packed her too much or Vis had given her extra money just in case she needed it, so he wouldn’t feel like a charity case. She knew that feeling all too well and hated it, so didn’t want to make him feel the same. After all he had lost, he didn’t need that too.

Jon repaid her by doing some of the harder chores around the place that her father and Vis had put on her, like mowing the yard or cutting firewood. She insisted on helping him around Benjen's too, cleaning, cooking, and the like. When they weren’t doing chores or school work, they played video games, or just sat around and talked. They never seemed to run out of things to say.

He became her best friend, her only friend really, and she was his. Soon they knew each other’s every hope and dream and darkest secrets too. 

They were inseparable.

After being too shy to admit it for nearly two years, Jon finally told her he loved her on her eighteenth birthday. It was the best birthday she’d ever had. The tension between them had been growing by the day. Both wanted more but were too afraid to let the other know, fearing they would ruin their friendship. 

Jon broke first, having packed a picnic basket full of her favorite foods and a small cake he had bought at the local bakery. Basket and quilt under his arm, off they went into the woods behind his house. He stopped them by the pond and spread the quilt out onto the mossy ground under a huge live oak. He was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs while they ate. She decided to have mercy on him.

“I’ve had a great birthday, Jon. All of this was really sweet. Thank you,” she had whispered and reached out to squeeze his hand. She was just about to confess her love, when he latched onto her and pulled her close. 

“I love you, Dany,” he blurted out in a rush of air.

“That’s good, cause I love you too,” she smiled, then admitted she had been in love with him from day one.

They laughed at how silly they’d been to wait so long and then he kissed her and Dany realized she had only thought she loved him before, because when his lips touched hers everything she felt for him doubled and tripled in size.

They’d kissed for over an hour. Day slowly turned to night as they pushed the boundaries of their innocence. The world around them fell away and there was nothing but the two of them and the feelings they created in each other. Their clothes never came off, but they kissed, touched, and rubbed every inch of each other they could until both orgasmed, straining against their confining clothes. Afterwards, once they could breathe again, they laughed with the pure, sweet love that only teenagers can feel.

They never questioned what they had done. Nothing had ever felt more right and they loved each other, that was all they cared about. And from then on it continued to be their only goal, just making each other happy. 

Two weeks later they made love under that tree for real, both naked as the day they were born. It was perfect, nothing like the horrible first times Dany had heard whispered about in the girl’s bathroom. It was gentle and sweet, pure and intense, all at once. Thank God he hadn’t asked Vis for advice and decided to do what felt natural instead. He was a dream come true for Dany in every way.

By the end of their senior year, they were the town’s favorite sweethearts. Everyone loved Jon and his easy, soft spoken personality and he had helped her come out of her shell enough that she was no longer seen as ‘crazy Aerys’ daughter anymore. Both of them had been working for a while to save up money—him at the hardware store and her at a diner. She bought a clunker, Jon’s went into a savings account for school. Once they graduated they decided to move to Atlanta for college. It was a hard decision, she didn’t need to leave her father, but they’d only be a couple hours away and Viserys still lived close. So they moved into an apartment near campus that fall.

Dany found a job pretty quick working for Missy’s Dad, Kraznys, as a secretary and took business classes at night while Jon bartended and took his classes during the day. They were happy as clams for six and a half years, then Jon got the offer of a lifetime—an almost six-figure, full benefits job working for a design firm in London.

He laughed at first, saying no way in hell was he leaving her to go back to Britain. It was wet and cold seven months out of the year, London was too crowded, his hateful bitch of a step mother would be too close for comfort, and it wasn’t home anymore. She was.

But those excuses came and went like fireflies at dusk. Within a few days his whole outlook had changed and he was ready to move them across the pond.

Dany felt like she was being torn in half.

She wanted to go with him, but couldn’t leave. Her dad was too sick, his mind a black hole of torment. She’d already moved him into their apartment building to have him close. Viserys wasn't far away, but he was always too busy to help her keep an eye on him. It was her responsibility anyway, she had caused him to break the day she was born. She couldn’t move an ocean away from him and leave him to die. And he would die, or gods forbid, kill someone else in one of his fits of rage. Then there was her job. She had worked her way up through the ranks and was the top junior financial officer for the Southern Division. She was set to be CFO within a few years. The youngest one ever.  
She couldn’t leave. But it was Jon’s dream job. What he had always wanted. What he had worked his ass off for. How could she be so selfish and keep him from it?

Dany was so stressed she had a raging ulcer within two weeks of his offer. Jon kept bringing it up, jokingly at first, but then he was much more serious about it. He tried to come up with ways to make it work—hunting down a job for her in London, or urging her to move her dad with them. He wanted it. He wanted it bad and he wanted her to be right there with him.

She wanted to. She really did, but she just couldn’t bring herself to agree. She loved him more than life, but for some reason she couldn’t do it. She started to doubt herself and what they had and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

She began to question if she was enough for him. There had to be a reason he hadn’t asked her to marry him before then. They’d been together for years, and still there was no ring on her finger. On and on it went inside her head. She was afraid—afraid he would choose a new life over her or he would find someone more worthy and she’d be left all alone. Her dad was insane, and Vis didn't really care about her one way or another. She was just bad baggage for him. If Jon left she’d be all alone, but maybe that was the way it should be.

Soon she’d convinced herself he was better off without her. He needed a different life, with someone else, someone better who didn't have such a fucked up family. He was meant to have better, he deserved better. She’d been born into hate and strife, she didn’t deserve him.

The fighting started then, and they had never been a couple that fought. Dany found herself at work later and later, avoiding going home. Avoiding him. He started drinking more and more and became clingy to the point of madness. He even begged her to marry him one night, drunk on bended knee. Tears streaming down his face, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, he smelled like three days of sweat and stale beer, his hair a rat’s nest.

Something inside her snapped and she was instantly furious at him for asking her that way. She had wanted to marry him from the time they were sixteen and he had ruined every puffed-up idea she had of how he was supposed to do it.

Fading like a sweet dream, nearly nine years of love collapsed that night in a fight of screaming, begging, and hot tears.

Six years later and she can still feel her heart shattering the way it did as she drove away from him, convinced she was doing the right thing. Not one night has passed since then that she hasn’t doubted that choice. She had several chances to fix it before he left for good. She turned her back on him every time he showed up at work, or Missy’s, too stubborn and full of pride to do anything else. She held onto both of those emotions for several years afterwards, but with lots of therapy figured out they were pointless. She forgave him for choosing to follow his dreams, and some days, even herself for pushing him away. They were both better off. 

That does little to comfort her now. Thirty years old, tired from a job she hates, only graves to visit for family, Dany is all alone. 

“Daenerys,” a deep, gravelly voice breaks her out of her misery.

Big, brawny, and dark is trying to get her attention. Jon has disappeared from her line of sight again, so she turns to her intruder.

“Hi, Daario. How are you tonight?” she asks, minding her manners.

Daario isn't the worst guy. He works two floors down from her in development. He’s tried for years to make them a thing. But it was never gonna happen. She went as far as letting him take her out a couple of times, but it only took one short evening together for him to know she wasn’t feeling what he was. They’ve managed to stay very casual friends since then.

“I’m as good as I can be stuck in this monkey suit. Wanna take a spin on the floor? You’re too beautiful tonight to just be sitting at the bar.”

She shouldn’t, Jon’s out there somewhere, but she finds her hand taking his offered one anyway.

Once they start dancing, she tries to focus on what Daario is saying, but she honestly doesn’t hear a word of it. Her heart’s pounding, blood rushing like a freight train through her ears as she frantically searches the dance floor. Then a pair of eyes, dark as midnight skies, find hers, and it stops altogether, lodging in her throat before dropping to the pit of her stomach to pound faster than ever.

The fact that they’ve stopped dancing is lost on her until Daario’s voice rumbles over the roaring, “So that’s him, huh?”

“Who?” she whispers, never taking her eyes off of her heart’s only love, still staring at her from across the room.

He steps towards her, falters, then moves their way with purpose. Dany's certain she's quit breathing.

“He’s the one. The one you’ve never stopped loving, and from the look on his face, I’d say he never stopped loving you either,” Daario says, stepping away just before Jon reaches them.

Dany’s frozen, overwhelmed with every emotion imaginable as she stares back at him. Even if she was blind, she would know he was here in front of her. Her ears recognize the way the air leaves his lungs, her skin prickling from sensing his nearness. It only takes seconds for his scent to engulf her and sink into her bones. She sways on unsteady feet. His eyes are sad and stormy staring back at her, leaving her raw and bare as blistered skin under their intense gaze. 

“Hello, Dany.”

That deep, lilting voice flows into her ears like a sweet song, piercing her heart, nearly making her knees buckle. All she can do is will the tears to stay in her eyes with every ounce of strength she has left.

“Hello, Jon.”

Pain flashes across his beautiful face, like the sweep of sun-rent clouds, then his gaze snaps to Daario. Dany had honestly forgotten he was even there. “I’m Jon Snow, nice to meet you. I’m an old friend of Dany’s. You must be her husband.”

_‘An old friend.’_

Those words are like a knife to the gut. 

Thankfully, her throat closes, keeping down the whimper that’s trying to escape. To anyone else he probably sounded friendly and at ease, but despite being apart for six long years, she caught the quivering hidden in his voice. It hurt him as much to say it as it did her to hear it.

Daario laughs and reaches for Jon’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Daario Naharis, and I wish I was, but this lady is as stubborn as they come. She made her choice a long time ago and it wasn’t me.”

Jon’s eyebrows go up and he looks back at Dany, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is that so? Now that you mention it, seems like I do remember her being a bit stubborn.” He smiles, but there’s no happiness behind it.

Another knife buries itself deep in Dany's heart.

“Yeah,” Daario says, “I’ve tried to change her mind, but as they say, the heart wants what the heart wants, and again, that ain’t me. We just work in the same building.”

A lengthy, uncomfortable silence begins to stretch between the three of them. Dany is a deer in the headlights, trembling before the disaster that’s barreling down on her. She knows she should run, but every muscle in her body is locked down tight with fear.

“I’ll let you two get reacquainted,” Daario mumbles, then disappears, leaving her and Jon to stare at one another some more.

Her strength abandons her. Dropping her head, she stares at the floor, licking her lips. “I can go if you want."

The hand she held more times than she can count appears in her vision, reaching out with trembling fingers. “Dance with me?”

Even though she wanted to run, her body has a mind of its own and she takes a step forward. Then she's in his arms, home again for the first time in way too long.

He pulls her to him a little tighter, his breathing just as erratic as hers. “Gods, I’ve missed you, Dany.”

All hope of discreet restraint leaves her as she presses her face into his warm neck, a queer, unnameable sound slipping from her throat, skewing her whispered words, “I missed you too.”

He digs out his handkerchief, handing it to her then quickly ushers them through the crowd to the lobby elevators. She couldn't be more grateful to be away from prying eyes. His alone are certain to chip away at every wall she’s built. 

They stay silent on the ride up. His arm never unwraps from around her. A few minutes later she’s sitting on a stiff hotel sofa. He hands her a glass of water, a sadness in his eyes that could only be born from shared misery.

“Thank you.” She takes a few sips, out of courtesy. The cool liquid soothing her throat, but useless against the rest. The burn behind her eyes, the merciless tugging in her heart. Seeing him again, right in front of her… She imagined it so many times. It had never hurt so much.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice gentle, but still urging. No doubt he’s as unsettled as she is.

Shaking her head, she swallows at the lump in her throat again. “I’m sorry. I’ve imagined this happening a thousand times in my head, but I still wasn’t ready.”

“I can go, Dany, if it’s too much.”

Panic grips her and she almost grabs his hand, but manages to stop herself, setting the water on the coffee table instead. “No. Please don’t.”

“I know it's been awhile, but I still remember what that look means.” He sucks in a breath, blowing it out slowly, palms rubbing up and down his thighs. “I don't want to make it worse.”

He had always hated to see her upset, doing all he could to chase away her dreary moods, only happiest when he’d succeeded in pulling a smile from her. It was one of the many reasons she’d loved him. 

“I don't either,” she admits, words barely above a whisper as she closes her eyes, fighting against the torrent swirling within her. Much more and the dam will break, unleashing countless tears.

She startles, his fingers ghosting over her cheek and across her jaw, searing her down to the very marrow of her bones. “How is it possible for you to be even more beautiful than you were?” 

A rush of air forces it way into her lungs, escaping just as quickly. The laugh that follows couldn't sound more pitiful. She sits straighter, refusing to break. “Probably the same way you are. It hurts to look at you you’re so perfect.” 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” His hand falls away, then he’s on his feet, pacing the floor for a moment before stopping and crossing his arms over his chest, almost protectively. His brows gather heavy over his dark eyes, the tip of his thumb going straight to his mouth for his teeth to worry it. 

The hauntingly familiar sight brings a heavy ache to her chest, not that it ever left. He’s so different, yet he’s hardly changed at all. She’s seen him just like this hundreds of times. He’s fighting his feelings, just as hard as she is. She wages a fierce battle within herself to stay seated and not go to him.

“Jon? Please, say something.”

His eyes flick to hers, the floor, then back again. “I don’t know what to say. I thought I was ready. That I could see you again and not feel all of this,” he answers tersely, hand jerking back and forth between them.

Those are certainly not the words she wanted to hear. She can’t do this again. She won’t.

“I’m sorry. If I’d known you were coming I would’ve stayed away. I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll go.” Rising on shaky legs, her heart feeling thin as blown glass, she hurries to the door, not daring to look his way.

She almost has it open when his body presses against hers, his hand covering hers on the handle. “No, Daenerys,” he whispers, breath harsh and hot against her neck. “Not again. You don't get leave without listening to me this time.” 

She leans her forehead into the wood and draws in a steadying breath. “Please, Jon. Don’t do this. Let me go. I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, cursing the waver in her voice and the tremors sweeping through her, the strain of holding in her grief near the breaking point.

“Hurt me?” He laughs. It’s the most bitter sound she’ve ever heard, searing, like salt being poured into a wound. “You don’t want to hurt me?” 

Biting her lip, she closes her eyes against the pain and anger radiating off him, and shakes her head.

He leans closer, the heat coming from his body engulfing her, then his lips are brushing against her ear. “Too fooking late for that, love.” 

She spins around when he lets her go. He’s halfway across the room, hands buried in his hair. Then he turns, looking at her with nothing but anguish in his eyes. “Do you know how long it took me to live again, Dany? How much I suffered trying to let you go?” he asks, voice cracking.

His words slice right through her. Years of grief, self hatred, and bitterness spill out like so much red blood. “ _I’m sorry_. Will that make you feel better? Is that what you want to hear?” she seethes.

“Fook yes, I do!” he fires back, “I think you owe me at least that much.”

Dany runs shaking hands over her face, eyes focused on the cheap shade of red covering her toenails. “And what about me, Jon? What do you owe me?”

His snort could only be construed as belligerent. “What do _I_ owe you? You can't even look at me and ask that.” 

She can't look at him, can't let him see the torment. “You left. You got on that plane knowing exactly what you were leaving behind,” she reminds him, the chill in her voice making her shiver. “I lost just as much as you. If not more.”

“Dany.”

Hearing her name leave his lips as both a prayer and a curse, she forces her eyes to meet his. Barely able to draw a breath, her stomach churning, she's ripped from the present and dropped back into their apartment, six years ago, the night her soul was rendered to pieces. 

He was supposed to start a new life. He was supposed to be happy and free, not this broken, bitter man who’s staring at her with tears threatening to break.

_My God, what had they done?_

She slides to the floor, curling into herself, their suffering threatening to shrivel her like paper thrust into a flame.


	2. All I Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you lead me by the hand into the flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy second birthday, Frost <3 ;)
> 
> The happy ending that was promised.
> 
> Another HUGE shout-out to Meisiesmut and Sparkles59 for the beta help!!! Couldn't have done it without you ladies! <3<3<3

“It was like living with a ghost.” Jon's voice finds her through the thick fog of torment, sounding far away, his accent heavy. “You were buried so fooking deep inside me I couldn’t get away, no matter how hard I tried.” He’s pacing, sluggish, the smooth soles of his dress shoes whispering against the tightly weaved carpet beneath them. “I would hear your laugh coming out of a crowd or smell you on my clothes, no matter how many times I fooking washed them. Nearly everything I owned you had touched and left your essence attached to it. You haunted me.” 

Heartsick at his words and humiliated by her own weakness, she lifts her head, letting it fall back against the door. He’s staring at her, eyes half veiled by tears, like loamy earth seen through mists of rain. 

“Countless times a day I almost called you to tell you something. I saw you in every blue-eyed blonde girl’s face over there.” Trembling hands wipe down his face as he backs away. He breathes hard, lips pressed tight between his teeth, fists clenched against his forehead as he turns away. “Do you know how many fooking blue-eyed blondes there are in world, Dany?” he snaps with brittle sarcasm.

Cringing, she wishes she could crawl into the wood behind her, wishes she could hide. But she helped lay this shadow over them. It's time to face it. There's no more running.

“I was so damn mad at you!” he rages, pacing like a caged wolf, ripping at his tie then flinging across the room. “All day long I would hate you, but every night I would chase you through my dreams, begging you to stay with me, to love me again. You weren’t even there, but you still managed to torture me.” Stopping at the foot of the bed, he stares at her, his wrath slowly dissipating like smoke from a snuffed match. “Losing you was worse than losing Dad. It nearly destroyed me,” he whispers, sinking down onto the bed.

The pain in Dany's heart spreads through her like a brush fire after a drought. She sits there, taking him in through burning, watery eyes. He’s bent over now, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, fingers gripping hair, shoulders shaking. He fades away into a wavering blur of black and white, only the sound of her heartbeat letting her know she's alive.

Time disappears, the weight of what they’d done pressing and stretching and twisting at her soul. To let go, to cut that last thin thread, seems absurd and unimaginable after clinging to it with all her strength for so long. That hope has been a lifeline, one she didn't even realize she had until she found herself desperately trying to pry her fingers loose while staring into those familiar brown eyes. But hanging on is surely just as senseless.

Then he's there, crouched down in front of her, eyes begging, hand held out and open, a white flag of truce. She stares at it a moment, wets her lips, then places hers within it trying not to let him see what his touch still does to her. He leads them over to the bed and sits down, pulling her down beside him. “I’m sorry, Dany.” His voice is thick and low, words barely taking shape. “I’m an arsehole. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. You’re right, it’s on me just as–”

Shaking her head she stands up, skin crawling with shame at his gentleness. Escaping to the balcony door she looks out at the city, the lights a thousand colorful stars under a moon so brightly silver it looks like a newly pressed coin. “I deserved it. I deserve all that and more.”

“No, you–”

“I do. What I did to you, to us…my fears struck the first blow in destroying the only good thing I ever had,” she whispers, her tight throat strangling the words. 

“It was both of us.”

“I never meant to,” she carries on, needing him to hear it, to know. “I swear I didn’t. That’s the last thing I wanted. I think I’ve regretted it every day for the last six years. You’ll never know how sorry I am, for both of us.” She glances back, giving a him a fleeting, smile of grief. “You might be happy to hear this, but all those things you said…” Faltering, she looks at the city lights again, almost angry at those below going about their lives blissfully unaware of the two anguished souls far above them. “I lived with them too. You were always there just at the edge of my grasp. Hiding in my things, pretending to be some other guy with curly black hair. In a whiff of cologne, or in someone else’s laugh. You’re every good memory I have, but some of my most painful ones too.”

He doesn’t respond and she lets the silence rankle her. Spinning around she sets narrowed eyes on him. “Why did you leave?”

Another bitter huff leaves him, but there's a little less anger behind it than before. “You didn’t give me any reason to stay, Dany,” he offers, his words as faint as the light in his eyes. “I tried a dozen fooking times to get you to talk to me but you were so goddamn stubborn. Why wouldn't you answer the door? Or the fooking phone at least?” he asks, defeated.

“I was scared, Jon,” she admits, hating the vulnerability that seeped into her words.

He scowls, throwing his hands up. “Of what? Almost nine years, Dany. We had been together almost nine years. And I loved you with every ounce of my soul for every one of them. You were never scared before.”

His words flaying her to the bone, she once again retreats, staring through the dark glass, but her eyes only see his hazy, tortured reflection. She slams them shut, unable to look at him and profess her most hated of secrets. “I was scared you would…” Her breath catches, the rest of the words refusing to come.

“I would what? Just tell me, Dany.”

“I made shit up in my head, okay?” she snaps, angrier with herself more than him. “I got myself all twisted up inside and mad enough at you that I could walk away before you walked away from me, because you found someone better.”

“Dany, you can’t be serious. What the hell?”

“My gods, Jon. Is it really that hard for you to see? I wanted to go with you, but I couldn’t. Don't you understand? I couldn't!” She takes several deep breaths to calm herself. “I had dad to think about, and Vis, and my job…”

“Your Dad? How is he…”

She shakes her head. “He’s gone. Last year.”

She doesn’t turn around when she hears his labored breaths. “I’m sorry. I should have been here. If I had known…” His voice cracks.

“Don’t. Just don’t, please.”

“Finish your story,” he says with an exhausted sigh. 

Glancing up at his reflection she sees his head is in his hands again. This time she forces herself to focus on him. “I tried to make it after you left. I thought I was strong enough, but Missy made me go to therapy after four months of watching me fall apart. I went for over two years before I worked everything out. Somewhere deep down I had known it was too hard of a choice for you to make and you deserved to chase your dreams.” She turns around and faces him, “You deserved better than being stuck here with me. I left, so you could.”

To say he’s stunned would be an understatement. But slowly the confusion drains from his features and his brows gather over narrowed eyes as he shakes his head at her, his lips pressed into a hard line. His mouth opens, he draws in a sharp breath, eyes now cold and hard as onyx. He jumps to his feet, one finger pointing furiously at her. “You had no fooking right to force my hand like that Dany! I would’ve stayed. I would have chosen you a hundred times! I would have married you. Had babies with you. Kept loving you like I always had!” 

His storm builds as he stalks closer—the executioner to her criminal. He stops a breath away, seeming to tower over her, more furious than she's ever seen him. Eyes burning black, jaw bulging and clenched so tight his teeth are probably in danger of cracking. Dany stands still, determined to take whatever venom he spits at her. “If I’d had any thread of hope that you still loved me I would have stayed! I fooking loved you beyond reason. And godsdammit it pisses me the fook off, but I still do!” 

He grabs her hard and crashes his lips to hers in a punishing kiss. She fights for only a few seconds, shocked by the sheer force of him. He was a man when he left, but he’d loved her with the gentleness of his younger self—always sweet, careful, and giving. This man holding her now is powerful, only taking and demanding. His hands grasping her head, fingers buried in her hair, tugging and pulling her into him. It’s almost as if she can feel every spark of anger and frustration, all of his pain, flowing out of his hands and mouth and seeping into her skin. 

She welcomes it, pulling him closer, climbing higher up his powerful body. “I still love you too,” she chances on a whisper, the second he lets her breathe. “I never stopped. Not for one second.”

He freezes and Dany slides out of his limp arms, watching as the anger drains from his beautiful face like water from a cracked glass. As his eyes wildly search for the truth, she still sees his pain and has a sudden, desperate need to ease it in any way she can.

She has no right to ask, and knows it’s probably a mistake, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her throat. “I won’t ask you to forgive me… It took me years. But let me...let me love you. Just for tonight. Let’s ease this pain for a little while. I know there isn’t a tomorrow for us, but we can say goodbye the right way this time. If this is the last night I ever see you, I need to leave you with a happy memory. I need one too, because once you’re gone I know I’ll never love again.”

Her eyes have squeezed tightly shut by the time she finishes, forcing herself not to bolt from the room. But then his hands, tentative and careful, take her face between them, lifting it. The air thickens around them, their breathing erratic. 

“Say it again.”

Her eyes pop open and there he is—her beautiful, beautiful love. Eyes of the darkest skies stare into hers, brilliant and unrestrained, begging her to love him.

“Please.”

Swallowing deeply, she pushes up onto her toes and brushes her lips against his. “I love you.”

This time his lips are tender when they touch hers, as soft and hesitant as the first kiss they shared all those years ago. But it only takes a moment before they’re tasting her in a painfully familiar way.

“Dany.”

Forcing back tears, pretending they never broke each other's hearts she kisses him with all the love she's stored up in his absence.

The simmer that’s been brewing between them from the moment their eyes met again, erupts, a hot flow of need and want. He molds them together, hands fisting in her hair, his demanding mouth taking from hers until suddenly there’s not a breath of space left within Dany that isn’t filled with burning for this beautiful man. 

She's alive in his arms. More alive than she's felt in years. There’s sparklers running through her veins, her heart, the electricity searing the cracks closed, steel weaving into her bones making them stronger, and fresh air, his air, filling her lungs, drawing a breath easier than it’s ever been. 

Without warning he pulls away, leaving her reeling. Thankfully his hands are holding her in place. If not, she’d surely have collapse at his feet. As her head slows its spin, she wills him to see her desperation, but his eyes are roaming her body not her face, so she pleads with him instead. “Jon, please.”

He must have heard the urgency in her voice. His eyes lock with hers, glowing like raging storms. “I’ve waited so long. Please, let me look at you. I need to see you,” he whispers, trailing his eyes and fingers down her face and neck and over the swell of her heaving breasts. 

She shivers from his touch and the heat in his eyes, goosebumps rising across her skin to meet him, searching for more contact. 

“You are so damn beautiful, Dany,” he says, his voice strained and raspy. “Even more than I remembered.” His hands slide down her sides to circle her hips, pulling them tight against his. They rock against him on instinct, causing his grip to tighten. He lets out a deep groan, head falling back and eyes closing. 

He recovers quickly and letting his hands speak for him, he undresses her. First the straps are slid from her shoulders, leaving her breasts bared to his roving eyes. Then he’s at her waist, hands sliding between fabric and skin, pushing the dress slowly down past her hips and letting it fall to the floor. Her panties, no more than a scrap of lace and silk soon follow. She steps out of them, running her fingers through his inky curls, ridding him of the tie holding them hostage. Jon begins reacquainting his hands and lips with every part of her he can reach and Dany can’t help but wonder if her body feels as familiar to him as his touch does to her.

She gently pulls away, running her hands under his jacket, pushing it up and over his shoulders. “I want to see you too.”

He shrugs it off, haphazardly throwing it onto the dresser behind her, then leans over, placing slow, wet kisses from her neck to shoulder, then further still. Her collarbone, then breast, nipple, and ribs, stomach, then hip, and last her thigh. Leaving her wanting and dazed, he begins to untie his left shoe. On shaky legs, she kneels and starts on the right. Once they're slipped off and his socks, he holds a hand out and helps her stand. 

Lip caught between her teeth, Dany works on the tiny buttons of his shirt. As soon as the last one is freed he pulls the shirttails loose from his pants and the starched cotton joins the jacket—hopefully both banished to the dresser until daybreak.

If he was breathtaking in his tux, he’s heart-stopping now. A pale Roman god would be an appropriate description. Dany nearly weeps at the sight of him and can’t keep her hands from shaking as they run over the expanse of his magnificent chest. His shoulders, arms, and abs are equally impressive, all of them calling to be worshiped. While taking in every pale, sculpted inch, she realizes time has matured him into a flawless male specimen. He was perfect before, but now he’s more than that. There isn’t the smallest shadow of the awkward teenage boy he used to be or even the young man she walked away from. They still hide in his eyes though, she can see them lurking behind the burning black. He’s staring at her so intensely it’s a miracle she hasn’t gone up in flames.

He unbuttons his pants and they drop from his slim hips, falling to the floor with a whispery thump. His boxers follow and the ache within Dany begins to spread throughout her body, her want for him expanding, seeing the evidence of his for her. Everything she knows of sex and love she learned from his young body touching and moving with hers. She wants to remember it all again with this stunning man in front of her. 

Right here. Right now.

As if he read her mind, Jon lifts her up, his hands and arms wrapping tightly around her, holding her even closer. She molds herself around him, hoping he feels the same need from her. Then she's underneath him, his weight carefully pressing her into the bed.

Their eyes lock, so much being said so silently. His soften, a glimpse of the boy he used to be slipping through. She attempts to ignore the cracking of her heart as it mourns all the lost time, but a wave of memories flood through her soul with a sharp longing that demands to be felt, like the sudden pain of a dislocated joint slipping back into place. She knows this man and his body, but there’s so many hours, days, and years they carelessly squandered and will never have the privilege to discover. So many moments gone. 

“Don’t go there,” he begs, voice raspy, eyes urgent. “Stay with me.” His hands grasp her,body pressing her further into the bed, as if he believes she's physically leaving him and he’s trying to hold onto her.

Taking several deep, shuddering breaths Dany pulls herself together, desperate to spare him from any more pain. She reaches up and holds his sweet face, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. “There’s nowhere else I want to be,” she promises, bringing his full lips to hers.

They don’t waste another moment, tongues hastily gliding over each other, knowing exactly how to move, as if the last six years never happened. 

She whimpers when he breaks away to trail kisses down her neck and towards her aching breasts. He circles his tongue around one painfully tight nipple before gently sucking it into his hot mouth, his fingers teasing and pinching the other. Dany squirms and moans under his slow, careful attentions, throbbing for the stiff, heavy weight pressed against her thigh.

_It’s been so long. Too long._

Her body becomes desperate for him and soon she’s begging. “Please, Jon. I need you.”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his lips now against her right hip bone, moving across to the left so maddeningly slow and tender she wants to scream. “Open for me. I need to taste you again.”

A strangled whine surges from her throat, but she manages to spread her legs for him, despite how badly they’re shaking.

She's not surprised when one of his arms goes across her hips and holds her down. Clearly he hasn’t forgotten how hard it is for her to stay still. Sure enough, they buck against his hold when his nose slides up a damp, quivering thigh to her heated center.

He lets out a deep groan, dropping his forehead to rest on her pubic bone. “Fook.” 

Hearing the need in his voice and feeling his warm, heavy breath flowing over her sensitive skin, makes her hips rise even further, begging for more.

She isn’t certain which of them moans louder when his scorching tongue finally slides up through her soaked swollen lips. He begins to torture her in earnest, seeing how quickly he can pull her up and over the edge—spreading her lips with his fingers and sucking her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Dany's body hasn’t forgotten his masterful skills, nor has he erased from his mind the right combination to unlock her pleasure.

Mr. H has absolutely nothing on him.

It only takes moments and a high-pitched wail rips from her throat, her orgasm rushing through her. He doesn’t give her a second to recover, crawling over her shuddering body and burying himself deep within her quivering channel.

“Oh Gods, Jon!”

“Fook, you’re so damn tight,” he whispers, his voice strained as he slowly rolls his hips back, then forward again. “So fooking perfect.”

Her moans have a sharp edge to them as she adjusts to his size, but thankfully it doesn’t take her long and he doesn’t seem to notice. His hips continue their slow, deep rhythm as he groans with each stroke. Dany can hardly believe he’s here with her, loving her after what has felt like an eternity. She's in heaven despite the hell the morning will surely bring.

He raises up on his hands, eyes full of so many emotions she can’t keep up with them all. He thrusts his hips forward making her gasp, eyes rolling back in her head from the intense pleasure. Her thighs grip his waist tighter, fingers biting into his arms as he drives into her over and over. He’s angled himself perfectly, grinding against her clit and hitting her G-spot with each exquisite pump of his hips, eliciting noises she hasn’t made in years. She can already feel him swelling, hardening even more inside her. It rushes her closer to the peak she's struggling not to climb too fast. She never wants this to end.

But their bodies take over just like they always used to do, and soon they’re on fire, as if they're trying to burn away all the wasted time, then melt back together all their broken pieces. It’s not gentle. They couldn’t handle gentle, it would only break them more. Instead it’s ruinous; fierce, hard, and possessive. They take with teeth and hands all they can grasp, swallowing moans, limbs wrapping around each other, fighting for dominance, fingers gripping and prying, hips driving a punishing pace until they shatter as one, each other’s names ripped from their throats.

They come back to themselves sometime later, breathing heavily and both damp with sweat. Dany feared things would be horribly tense once their needs were met, but Jon is placing gentle kisses over her cheeks while his fingers brush the hair away from her sweaty forehead. She finds his lips with hers and they kiss softly for a while. When he moves to lay down beside her, she winces, letting a hiss escape as he pulls out and gathers her into his arms.

He goes still, brow creased with worry. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

“I’m okay, just sore. It’s been awhile.” She rubs his smooth back to assure him, tucking her face into his chest. His heart’s still pounding. He’s so warm she wants to crawl inside of him and never come out. 

“How long?” he whispers.

“Does it really matter?” she asks, avoiding. She has no desire to get into this right now. No doubt her answer will only stir up more guilt and there’s been enough of that to cover a lifetime. And the last thing she wants is to ruin what they just had. 

“Dany? How long?”

Dammit, he isn’t going to let this go. She stays in her hiding place, frustration and embarrassment keeping her trapped. “A few years.”

“Years? You're not telling me…” 

She lets out a groan and rolls over. “Can we _please_ not do this?”

“Dany, look at me.” He takes her by the chin, turning her face towards him. She opens her eyes, but it’s difficult to meet his. “What are you saying? Please don't tell me there's been no one in six years,” he says, almost too quiet for her to hear. She blows out a breath through clenched teeth, rolling her eyes. “It’s okay if you have. You don’t have to lie–.”

Suddenly furious, she shoves at his chest with snarl. “I’m not lying, you arrogant asswipe!”

Jon throws his hand up, backpedaling quickly.“I'm sorry. I’m sorry. That was...I'm being a bloody wanker.” 

“You fucking think?”

“You and the brawny guy?”

“Oh my Gods, Jon! Yes. Me and brawny guy. Are you happy now? Would you like a play by play?”

“No thanks.” He lays down again, sighing. “Just him?” 

“Jon!”

“I’m sorry, I just… I hate to think you’ve been alone all this time,” he mumbles.

His words ease her irritation a bit, but a huff still escapes her. “It was better that way.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice sounding as pained as his eyes look.

“I don’t know,” she whines, throwing her hands up and slapping them down onto the covers. “I just didn’t want to…or couldn’t.” She huffs again, incredulous they're having this conversation at all, let alone now. But if he wants it, he’ll get it. “There was one other before Daario, but both were quite short and Daario and I ended almost two years ago. Toys take care of my needs just fine.”

He closes his eyes, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, sounding miserable.

“Why? It was my choice, not yours. I don't believe in replacing people. No matter how shitty it ended, erasing you with someone else… Both of us deserve better. There’s only one you anyway. No one else would have come close to making me feel the way you did. The way you still do,” she admits, intent on speaking nothing but the truth. “My heart has always been yours, no amount of forcing was ever gonna change that.”

His beautiful face becomes a mask of remorse, eyes darting away as he draws in a deep, unsteady breath. She runs her fingers gently over his wrinkled brow, trying to smooth it out. “Jon, please don’t.”

“I can’t say the same,” he confesses, still avoiding her eyes.

“I don’t care. Well, I do, but I don’t blame you. This isn’t a contest. We fucked up, let each other go. You didn’t owe me a damn thing. You still don’t. And I don't owe you either.”

She brushes the backs of her fingers over his cheek, attempting to soothe them both. “Just do me a favor, don’t tell me about any of them, okay?”

He shakes his head, retreating into the covers for awhile. She lays quiet beside him, giving him the space he obviously needs. Soon enough he’s back, stare, deep and brooding. Her heart catches, whisked back to those first days years ago when he was so lost and unmoored. “I need to know something,” he starts, but seems to waver, unsure.

“Ask me. I’m done with hiding behind my fears, Jon. If nothing else, we at least owe each other the truth.”

He nods, agreeing, his thumb worrying his bottom lip. “If you could barely bring yourself to sleep with anyone, how come you didn’t bother to come find me?” he asks, tone edged with frost. “Call me? Something? Anything?”

Dany pushes aside the spike of anger that flashes through her. It’s mostly shame anyway. It won't help them and he has a right to know. “I wanted to. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed that I haven’t wanted to find you, or call you. You have no idea how many times I picked up the phone and even dialed it, but I always chickened out. The guilt and fear never failed to shove my hopes back down. I’m a coward. I couldn’t have stood you turning me away,” she professes, barely a whisper. 

Jon rolls over onto his back, pulling his arm out from under her head, draping it over his eyes. Dany aches to reach out to him, to soothe his hurt, but they gave up that right to each other a long time ago, regardless of the night they’ve had. 

He goes quiet for much longer than she expects, his breathing too irregular for sleep. But he always did have a gift for deep, dark silences. Eventually, still hiding under his arm, he takes another deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do this, Dany.”

He may as well have thrown a sledge hammer through her chest. Her heart breaks, like ice over a pond, splintering at the first careless footstep.

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” she responds, forcing the words past the sudden lump in her throat. “You’ve given me more tonight than I ever hoped for and the last thing I want is to hurt you anymore. I can leave right now if you want me to.”

His silence is deafening.

 _Gods, they shouldn’t have done this. What the fuck were they thinking?_ She can already feel the wall of pain heading towards her. She knows she’ll survive losing him a second time. She was an idiot to ever hope.

Throwing the covers aside, she sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, but he stops her, just like earlier. This time with an arm around her waist like a steel band. “Don’t,” he begs, voice like wet gravel. Pulling her back against his chest, he wraps his other arm across her, his damp and prickly face in her neck.

The traitorous tears finally come, erupting like a spring. Holding his arm to her with one hand, she buries her face in the other. “We’re torturing ourselves, Jon. If my being here is too much, you have to let me go. I can’t stand the thought of hurting you again. I can’t. I won’t,” she gasps.

It’s the night she left him all over again, her heart screaming for her to stay, her mind begging her to run.

“Then stay. Stay with me,” he pleads, squeezing her tighter. “I didn’t mean…I meant I don’t think I can live without you. Not again. I’m angry, gods I’m so fooking angry... We wasted all that time.” He pauses, fighting for control. Then his cheek, presses against her ear. “I don’t want a life without you in it. I hated every minute of the last six years. I thought if I moved back…”

Her head jerks around, his beard scraping her cheek. “You’re not here for business?”

His face contorts into a pitiful grimace. “I’ve been back two weeks,” he whispers. 

Suddenly all the items scattered around the room register. The laptop open on the desk, the coffee cups, paper, and food wrappers surrounding it. All the clothes piled on the chair in the corner, shoes littering the floor. This hotel room is very lived in. She pushes against his hold until he loosens it enough to let her stand. Wiping at her face roughly, she stares at him, insistent. “Two weeks. You’ve been here in Atlanta for two weeks?" He nods. "You said moved, does that mean you’re back for good?” Her stomach knots, anticipating his answer.

“Sort of.”

“Please explain that.”

“Kraz wants me to manage the build of his new Nashville office,” he tells her, reaching up and catching her hand with his to stop her fretting.

“Are you going to? What about London? Jon, I’m so confused.” 

He takes a deep breath, eyes melting her heart as he laces his fingers with hers. “I quit my job in London two months ago. I’m never going back.”

Dany can only stare, heart nearly stuttering to a halt.

He pulls her to sit down again, eyes shining bright. “I came back for you.”

She licks her lips and swallows. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” he whispers, looking down at their entwined fingers, rubbing his thumb across her nails. “The work was good. I made a lot of money, spent a lot of time with my brothers and sisters, but like I said, I hated it.” He looks up. “You weren’t there.”

Like a nasty disease, regret rear its ugly head again. Dany pulls her hand from his. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I was trying to give you what you dreamed of but I ruined it. I can't believe it's me you don't hate.”

He gathers her in his arms. “I helped ruin it.” Stroking her hair he kisses the top of her head.“And I don’t hate you. I’ll never hate you again. That didn’t work out so well for me the last time I tried it,” he says softly.

Dany sits up, searching his face for the truth. Her teeth catch her trembling lip the moment she finds it. She doesn't want to cry again, but seeing the grief so plainly written in his eyes makes it difficult to hold back. She hunts for another emotion to waylay it. “If you’ve been here two weeks and you came back to see me, why haven’t I seen you?” she pries him with a scowl. “You didn’t even call.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a coward too, I guess. I did call, a lot, but I always hung up.”

Dany gasps, brows twisted in shock. “That was you? I thought I had a stalker or something.”

“Yeah, sorry, that was me.” He scoots to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over, elbows on his knees. He runs his fingers roughly through his hair, making it into a messy halo, then drops his face into his hands. “I was in the same building as you most days, I even made it up to your floor.” He turns towards her, wincing through his fingers. “I couldn’t get past the elevator doors.”

“Oh, Jon.” She runs a hand over his hair, trying to tame it, then leans over and kisses his cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his temple, breathing him in.

He leans into her, sighing, “What are we gonna do?” 

“What do you want to do?”

He sits up and looks at her, his expression a mixture of fear and hope. “What I always wanted. _Us._ I don’t give a shit where we go as long as we’re together.”

Something shifts inside Dany, swelling up and making her eyes burn, that anxious yearning that rises before all new beginnings. “After all this time, after everything, you still want an us?”

Jon smiles, a fragile thing hiding in the corners of his mouth and the creases around his eyes. “I do. I know I can live without you, I’ve done it.” He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I don’t want to. Not ever again. Life sucks without you.”

A strangled laugh bubbles out as Dany tucks herself into his side, arms linked tightly around his trim waist as she hides in his neck, truly smiling for the first time all night. The first time in years really. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Do you want to stay here?” he asks, tentative, arms wrapped just as tightly around her.

She shakes her head as much as his hold will allow. “If you’re going to be in Nashville then I guess I will be too.”

He gently pushes her away, staring wide-eyed and baffled. “You’ll go with me?” 

“Oh gods, stop with those damn puppy eyes, would you? There's no need for you to keep attacking me,” she teases. “You've won.” Seeing his pretty mouth pull into a smile, his whole face lighting up, Dany's heart swells and breaks all at once. She bites her lip to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll never leave your side again if you don’t want me to.”

His hands thread through her hair to hold her still. “I don’t, so you better fooking not.” Then his lips are on hers.

They’ve said many different things with their kisses tonight, this one is new—a confession of remorse and an urgency to start again, molded into one.

Dany feels as if the whole of spring is blooming inside her chest.

He pulls her towards him and she winds up straddling his lap. Their hands competing to see who can touch more and hold the most, lips and tongues never parting. He’s hard again moments later, hot and anxious pressing up against her.

He grasps her head, pushing her mouth away from his, panting. “Do you know how damn perfect it is to have you in my arms again?” he asks, pulling her back in and resting his forehead against hers.

“Yes,” she breathes, chest heaving. “Nothing’s ever been better.”

“I’m never letting you go again, I hope you know that.”

“You won’t have to. I swear I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you, Dany.”

“I love you too.”

He smiles, standing up, taking her with him like a toddler wrapped around their parent. 

She kisses up the side of his delicious neck to his ear. “Where are we going?” 

“Shower.”

“We’re just gonna get dirty again,” she whispers, sucking on his earlobe.

“You’re sore, we’ll wait. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He places her down on the cold bathroom counter, kissing her forehead before turning around and starting the shower.

_Gods, he’s beautiful._

He turns back around and helps her down. She gives him a serious pouty face. He laughs and she pouts some more just so she can hear him do it again.

Jon rushes them through their shower, making Dany's pouts much more genuine. It’s probably better though since seeing him naked, wet, and soapy is making her light-headed. He helps her out, dries her off, then wraps her in a towel. 

Another goes around his waist before he leans down, giving her a quick kiss. “Dry your hair some, I’ll be back.”

What’s he up to?

Dany picks up his brush and runs it through her wet hair, smiling to herself. She leans back to look out the bathroom door to see if she can catch what he’s doing, but can’t, so gets busy drying her hair. When she flips her hair back up he’s leaning against the doorway dressed in plaid flannel sleep pants and a black sweater. It’s clinging to every dip and bulge on his muscular torso. Her hands itch to rub all over it.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Got it dry? I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Are we going somewhere? You’re kinda in your pj’s.”

“Just out on the balcony,” he says, holding his hand out to her.

She takes it and lets him lead her to the bed. There’s another pair of sleep pants and a big comfy grey sweater lying on top of it. He pulls her close and kisses her until her toes curl as he removes her towel. “We’re almost outta time. Hurry.”

“Time for what?” she asks, grabbing the sweater. It smells heavenly, just like him. He’s gonna wear this tomorrow if she has any say so.

He’s grinning and pointing at the nightstand when she pulls the sweater away from her face.

Oh! It’s almost midnight. The fireworks. She completely forgot.

She throws on the clothes, tightening the drawstring around her waist and grabs his hand, smiling up at him. “Let’s go.”

“You look gorgeous in my clothes. You always did.”

“Thank you. I love this sweater, I want to see it on you though.”

He smirks at her, leading them out onto the balcony, then sits down in one of the patio chairs, pulling her onto his lap. The lights and music from the club are drifting up from below. They must have all the doors open to the terrace and the party is spilling out of them.

“We could go back down there if you want?” he murmurs against her cheek.

“No way.” She turns so she's sitting sideways and can see him better. Smiling, she reaches up and runs her fingers through his damp hair then down into his beard. “I’m right where I want to be.”

“Me too.” He smiles, wrapping a hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. 

They don’t stop when the crowd below begins their excited countdown, or even when the fireworks boom and crackle over their heads. By the time they come up for air, the party has moved back inside and the sky is filled with trails of smoke drifting across its starry blanket.


End file.
